That's Not How You Do It
by TwigTalent
Summary: Clint takes Fandral the Dashing for the afternoon, however, the two personalities tend to clash greatly. Stubborn meets chivalry. Rated T for language and a possibly suggestive theme at the end. Also, there hasn't been a story with these two yet.


"Apples, apples, goodbye apples." Clint scanned the area.

Red caught his eye and his fingers relaxed, letting the arrow fly. By the time red flesh hit the ground, the greens and golds joined it too.

"Barton."

The archer turned to the noise and let another arrow slide.

"Holy shit!" Coulson cussed as he ducked to the side, evading the arrow as it sunk its head into the apple beside him.

Composing himself, the agent cleared his throat. "Barton, that was dangerous."

"Well done, Coulson. Didn't think it would take you that long to realize that."

The agent rolled his eyes and placed his hands down at his sides, only to feel wet apple flesh on his pant leg.

"God damnmit." He muttered, brushing the mangled fruit off.

Clint continued. "However, I think you should know that I was actually aiming for the apple, not your head." He chuckled as he drew his bow and faced a foam target across the room. "This time."

Sighing impatiently, Coulson crossed his arms over his chest, trying to refrain from pulling a gun on the assassin. "Barton, you do realize that S.H.I.E.L.D. buys produce for the sake of eating, not shooting."

Nailing the target in its centre, Clint shrugged as he broke down his bow. "Well, maybe I wanted to make myself some apple sauce."

Coulson stared at him. "Barton, you hate apple sauce."

"Do I?" Clint replied with a boyish smirk.

"Yes, you said it looks like baby vomit."

"Well, in that case, Phil, it looks like you have baby vomit on your pants." Coulson internally face-palmed.

"So, why you here, sir?" Clint asked casually, even though he basically just harassed his superior.

"Thor has a proposal for you."

Turning with a serious look on his face, Clint looked Coulson dead in the eye. "Is it another drinking contest? Because if it is, go see Steve. Tony and I nearly lost our livers last time we tried to drink him under the table."

Wanting to slap the archer in the face, Coulson only gritted his teeth. "No Clint, it doesn't involve drinking. Thor wants to talk to you about his friend, Fandral. Thor thinks that you are best suited for acquainting Fandral with society."

The blonde pointed at the man with uncertainty. "Fandral. The Asgardian who bows and kisses the hand of basically every woman who walks by?"

Coulson nodded at the somewhat inaccurate description. "Yes."

"That could involve drinking." Clint replied, removing his disassembled bow from his waist and prepping for another round.

"Bart-"

The lather shook his head and drew his bow, aiming strangely at the roof. "Coulson, the only way you're getting me and Mr. Milady together in the same room is if you can catch me."

The arrow flew with a wire flying behind it, implanting itself in the roof and Clint was off the ground and in the air with a smirk on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"'"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

Thor and Fandral sat in front of the television, Thor comfortable and chuckling to himself as he watched his friend stared at the box with a blank expression.

"It's, it's amazing." Fandral exclaimed as his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

"Yes, television is quite fascinating, isn't it?" Thor replied cockily.

"Television?" Fandral glanced at Thor with a confused look. "Thor, I was referring to this so-called Robin Hood fellow!"

"Oh…so that's the image it's projecting." Thor finished as he turned his attention back to the show.

"Quite frankly, I think it's amazing he still has functioning arms. I'm no expert, but isn't that form completely incorrect for an archer?" Fandral lamented, earning an eye roll from Thor.

"Barton, where are you, my friend?" Thor muttered as Fandral continued his rant, becoming even more agitated as the character drew a sword for battle.

"What's he going to do now? With a wrist like that, he may as well toss the blade!"

"Holy shit, you hate Robin Hood too?" Clint said from the doorway, his eyes wide.

Still dressed from training, Clint donned his leather and straps, and, of course, his bow and quiver, but Thor couldn't help but notice the dust covering only one side of his friend.

Thor sighed in relief. "Oh, thank Odin." He whispered as he dropped his head to his knees.

Fandral cocked his head at the new arrival and nodded in agreement. "If that were an actual battle, he would've been dead before he drew his sword."

"Or his bow." Clint added, and the two chuckled and seeing that things were going well, Thor headed for the door.

"Fandral, this is Clint Barton. You will be in his company for the remainder of the day."

A hand shot in front of the God of Thunder, stopping him in his tracks. "Where are you going?" The archer said anxiously.

The God looked at him nervously. "To be with Jane. We haven't seen each other since New Mexico." And he was gone, leaving in a hurry before anymore protest arose.

Turning regretfully to face the swordsman, Clint stared at him. "You're in my company now?"

Frowning a little, Fandral nodded. "Yes, I believe I am, friend Barton."

"Clint."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name is Clint." He replied deadpanned.

Seeing that things were turning a bit hostile, Fandral managed a smile. "Alright, Clint. What do you have planned for us for the evening?"

Biting his lip in annoyance, Barton proceeded to the door. "Well, I need to shower, you need to change, and then we can hit the clubs tonight."

Pursing his lips, the warrior frowned in conclusion. "Why must I change if we are simply going to do more training tonight?"

Clint looked as if he might put his head through the wall.

Instead, he pointed at the Asgardian. "Either you're really pretty or Asgard doesn't have clubs. Now which is it? No clubs or stupidity of the blondes?"

Fandral's mouth gaped. "I'm sorry?" Was all he could manage.

"Both then." Clint concluded and went for the door.

A firm hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled the archer back to face the shockingly reddened façade of Fandral.

"Clint Barton, you should take note that Asgardian culture is a bit different from that of Midgard. I am not stupid as you assume me to be and need I remind you that you are also donning yellow hair?"

Blinking in amazement at the man's outburst, a sly smile crawled onto Clint's face. "I'm a dirty blonde and you do apparently have intimidation in your personality, Charming."

"And you are more stubborn than a child." The lather growled.

Removing the hand from his shoulder, Clint walked out of the room. "So, yeah, change into something a bit more 'earth' and we can go to like a bar or something. And please, for the love of God, tell me they have bars in Asgard."

Fandral blushed and smiled as some fond memories filled his mind. "Of course Asgard has bars and such. How else would I earn the title Fandral the Dashing?"

"Huh, this night might not be bad after all. We both have ways with the ladies." Clint laughed.

…

"You know what? I take that back, this night sucks already." Clint groaned as he watched a girl take their taxi which Fandral offered, even after they spent an eternity flagging one down.

The warrior stared at him and shrugged. "What is of the matter? She was a lady and they are always first."

Wanting to punch the Asgardian in the face, Clint restrained himself and took a deep breath. "It's alright, there's a club not far from here. We can walk."

With the mood tense, it was a silent walk but it was broken by Fandral as they approached the nightclub that had music burst from its seams.

"So this is where you go to meet women?" He asked with a hint of interest.

Nodding, Clint couldn't help but stare at a scandalously dressed woman walking in, giving him a wink before disappearing. "Yeah, I tend to pick up a few good chicks here. Let's go Errol Flynn."

Leading the way into the club, Clint began to smile at all the beautiful ladies surrounding him, earning winks, smiles, and a few other things that were enough to make the man blush.

"Now you see, Fandral, this is where you go to find girl who can really-wait, where'd you go?" He said in realization that that man was not beside him, or even near him for that matter.

Looking around the immediate area like a chicken with its head chopped off, Clint started to get a little nervous. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." He muttered to himself, knowing that losing an Asgardian would get his ass screwed by Fury, Coulson, Thor, everyone.

A cutesy laugh caught the archer's attention, and as he turned to the doors, he saw a group of girls leaving and Fandral holding the door for them.

"Of course." He said to himself as he headed over. "Of course he's holding doors open for them."

Clint's jaw nearly hit the floor as he realized that the girls had actually lined up to go out, smiling and giggling as they passed their 'Prince Charming'. The archer became very grateful that he was able to convince Fandral into wearing jeans and a blue v-neck rather than his armour. Lunch would've been on the floor.

"Damnmit, Coulson, why did you have to cut my line?" The archer muttered as he went to the doors, eyes rolling in every direction as the ladies smiled while they left.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, milady."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, milady."

"Fuck you."

"You're welcome, mi-Clint?"

"Get your ass in here." He growled as he dragged the man from his door, Fandral reaching back for it as if his life depended on it as another group of girls went to leave.

Positioning him at the bar and holding him still by the shoulders, Clint just glared.

"What in the fucking hell was that?" He asked, clearly mad that he entered the club alone.

Fandral frowned innocently. "They were leaving and I happened to be of convenience."

Clint blinked and tightened his grasp. "If I didn't come over there, you would still be there for another hour."

"Helping ladies exit with poise." Fandral added. "Maidens of such fine beauty shouldn't have to waste their time opening something as pitiful as a door, for their beauty shouldn't be concealed by such a task."

Gaping at the man, hands released from Fandral's shoulders and dropped to the bar. "You sound like fucking Shakespeare meets Hallmark romance novels. Can I get a few shots over here?" He called to the bartender who nodded back and brought the tequila over to the two.

After downing two and placing them on the bar, Clint held a teacher's look with slightly glazed eyes. "Now, the thing with women is they want something in guys to complement them. You can hold all the doors in the world and get absolutely nowhere with any of them. Here, on Earth, you have to hunt for them, talk to them, and show them how much they would miss out on if they pass you up."

Nodding, Fandral drank from the shot glass like a boss and placed it upside down on the table, and smiled. "Like so?"

"Like so." The archer smiled in agreement. "Just, flatter them and you should be good. Flirt, smile, and impress."

Spotting a brunette nearby, Clint pushed the Asgardian over to her. "Show me what you've got, Fandral."

Taking a deep breath, Fandral approached the girl with a smile and, to Clint's displeasure, bowed.

"Evening, madam." He greeted her as she frowned in slight shock of his action, and her eyes widened as he took her hand and kissed the top of it. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

Clint face palmed.

The girl gave a smile and a look that Clint was all too familiar with. "Shakespeare? Really? Try something more original next time." And left the poor guy standing alone with an open mouth.

Turning back to Clint, realization came onto his face. "Bloody hell, William stole my line, didn't he?"

Barton sighed. "Try again, this time, be casual. None of the Prince Charming chivalry stuff." He added, patting the confused guy's back as he pushed him towards a red head and her brunette friend, staying behind just in case things went sour.

Standing and resisting the urge to bow and kiss, Fandral just smiled. "Evening, ladies."

"Hey." The two answered in synch, getting flirty.

Nodding, the Asgardian threw a rope into the group. "Might I comment on how absolutely beautiful the two of you are?"

The red head blushed and the brunette smiled.

"Because woman as fine as you, I'd definitely make sure that you would be treated just as such."

The brunette narrowed her eyes and grinned. "Well, that's sounds just amazing. I'm Jenn and this is Ashley."

"Fandral." He replied and offered his hand to the two, who shook without hesitation. Clint began to grin as he sipped his drink and watched the show.

The girls began to twirl their hair. "So, where you from, Fandral?" Jenn asked.

Biting his lip, he shrugged. "Technically, I'm not allowed to say, but I will tell you that I'm definitely not from around here."

"Ooh, foreign, are we?" Ashley chimed seductively.

Fandral smiled. "You could say that."

The two girls giggled, and looked at each other with ambitious faces before turning back to the man standing in front of them.

"So." Ashley started again. "What do you do for a living, Fandral?"

He smiled. "I fight murderous beasts and terrors of the Nine Realms." And like that, the girls were gone.

"Watch and learn, Fandy." He heard Clint in his ear as he saw the man pass him.

Going for the blonde who winked at him while they were at the door.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"Hi." She smiled with curiosity.

Biting his lip, Fandral shrugged. "So, I noticed you taking a look at me while we were outside. Did you like what you saw?"

Surprised, she took a sip from her drink. "A bit, yeah. I'm glad you're letting me have a closer look. Does that mean you also liked what you see?" She asked flirtatiously.

"I do." He replied, looking at her up and down. "I'm Clint, by the way." He said, shaking her hand.

"Amanda."

"So, Amanda, can I buy you a drink or would you rather something else for the night?" He asked.

Smiling, she leaned in. "How about this instead." She whispered into his ear and slipped a card into Clint's breast pocket. "And I mean any time." She finished and left with a smile.

Turning back and taking the card out, Clint nodded. "Not a rejection number. Beat that."

Finishing his beer, Fandral went for a group of girls. "Gladly." And in a minute, Clint was amazed to see all of the girls write their names and number on some napkins and Fandral taking them happily and returned.

Staring at one of the napkins, Fandral frowned. "Clint, what's a phone number?"

Eyes wide, Clint shook his head in amazement. "Dude, you've got some serious game. But I think I can go farther."

Ten minutes later, Clint and Fandral had done it all. Used specific lines, gave a target, set a time, everything. And both would return with a number in their pocket.

Giving a serious look, the two downed a whole round of tequila shots and Clint pushed Fandral to turn to a girl looking at him from across the room. The blonde nodded and went for another kill.

"What price must I pay to win your love for me tonight?" He asked, and suddenly, the two boys were on the curb.

Struggling to get up, Clint took it slow and steady but clearly angry by the other's actions. "What. The. Hell were you thinking?" He asked, stumbling but throwing a decent punch into Fandral's shoulder.

Fandral winced. "I thought I'd be straight forward and try your 'whatever you want, you got it' technique; however, I think she misinterpreted my words."

"Dude, let's just get back to Stark tower, I'll teach you about prostitution later. The sun's going to come up soon, and I seriously can't believe you quoted Shakespeare in a club."

Fandral shook his head as he put Clint's arm over his shoulder since he seem to be stumbling everywhere like the archer. "If I remember correctly, the one girl emptied her gauntlet on you."

"But." Clint slurred. "But, I played the wet hair as coming from a work out and got the number from the next one."

"Touché."

The two stumbled back to base and when the passed Coulson's office, you could hear the agent's head fall onto the desk as he smelled the alcohol on the two blondes.

"God damnmit, Barton." He muttered before escorting the two back to their rooms, putting them in the same bed and placing a bucket on Clint's side. Seconds after their heads hit the pillows, they were out like a light.

Smiling, Coulson decided to have a little fun and pay back for Barton's actions from before and had JARVIS remove the two men's clothes and tossed them around the room and messed up their hair. Placing a few other objects in the bed, on the desk and floor, Coulson left just as they began to stir, taking the numbers they had collected that night with him. Moments later, a scream was heard from down the hall and the sheet-covered body of Clint Barton was seen running down the hall in pure horror.

"We didn't do it, we didn't do it, we didn't do it!"

Was all that the archer said as he slammed the door to his room and proceeded to rock back in forth as the shower sprayed him with water, trying to forget the images imagined when he saw Fandral lying beside him.


End file.
